


Howard Stark Makes A Shitty First Impression

by MoMoMomma



Series: How Howard and Steve Became Howard and Steve [1]
Category: Captain America
Genre: Actually more of a drunken ass, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Steve Rogers, Dirty Talk, First Meetings, Hand Jobs, Howard Stark Is a Dick, M/M, Sassy Steve Rogers, Technically Closet Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-29
Updated: 2013-03-29
Packaged: 2017-12-06 20:21:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/739725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoMoMomma/pseuds/MoMoMomma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers had a simple plan: thank Howard Stark for purchasing his art at a show. Somehow, whether he knows it or not, this will wind up being the most important decision of his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Howard Stark Makes A Shitty First Impression

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh the infamous first meeting. Howard is a dick in this, I wanted to showcase just how much being in a relationship with Steve changes him over time. I hope you all enjoy!

“Steve, hey, Steve! Someone bought your painting!”

Steve Rogers turned at the hissed words, blinking at the short woman who’d spoken, one of the people who was running the event he was debuting his art at. He nodded, looking to where she was discreetly pointing, his breath catching when he saw the man standing there.

“Him? Are you…are we thinking you’re pointing at the same person?” Steve whispered back, tightening his grip around the glass of champagne he held and leaning in close.

“Howard Stark. Steve, Howard Stark bought your painting.” She said in reverent tones, and Steve felt a flush work its way across his cheeks at the knowledge.

Howard Stark was notorious for being an extremely picky art buyer, in addition to his notoriety for being a lush, a womanizer, and a shrewd businessman. To have him buy one of your pieces was to put your name in the spotlight, and as Steve did a quick look around the room, more people were focusing on his art now that Stark’s name had been placed below the painting he’d bought than had been before. He squared his shoulders and took a large sip of his champagne, nodding to the woman and starting across the room towards the billionaire. A few people tried to get his attention along the way, pulling him to a stop as he explained the meaning of this painting or that one, trying to keep it simple and send them on their way as soon as he could.

Once he’d broken free of the crowd, Stark was standing in front of the painting he’d bought and Steve flushed when he realized it was the NYC night scene he’d painted from his balcony. Innocent enough, there was nothing titillating about it…if you weren’t aware Steve had painted it half naked on the balcony of his apartment, wishing on every star he’d filled in for a lover who could see the view with him.

It’d been a lonely few years since he’d split with his college boyfriend, who’d been too religious and disciplined to even talk to Steve when he’d brought up making their relationship more serious by moving some of his stuff into the man’s apartment. Sure, he’d pick up someone every now and then, and Bucky made it a point to get him laid every time they went out, but with Bucky gone at airborne training, he had little else to do in the meantime but lie around and dream of imaginary lovers in the wee hours of the morning.

He stopped a couple of feet from the older man, shifting his weight awkwardly and debating upon whether he should say something or let the man notice him in his own time. In the pause, he admired the man the tabloids called a ‘Death Dealer’, the owner of the biggest arms company in the world. Howard Stark still cut an amazingly attractive figure, despite his age.

 _And really_ , Steve mused, _forty eight wasn’t even all that old._

His hair was black as night, distinguished gray at his temples being the only indicator of his age. His face was still youthful, lines around his eyes enhancing the features, not detracting from them. Stark’s body was well-built under the subtly pinstriped suit he wore, indicating the man worked on projects, not just on paperwork. Steve’s thoughts stayed impeccably pure, until the man’s tongue flicked out to lick his lips, brushing the thin mustache above his top lip. Then a wave of heat flowed through him at the thought of what the mustache would feel like brushing his mouth, his body while they pressed close together.

He shook off the thoughts when he saw Howard’s eyes slide over to him, the man’s brows rising as he turned to face Steve. His smile was warm, but in a calculated way, something that had graced the covers of numerous magazines. There was a glint in his eye that made Steve shift in his old suit, never more aware of the fact that he was a ‘starving artist’ than now, faced by the most wealthy man on the planet.

“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.” Howard said smoothly, his grin slipping into something darker as he held out a hand.

Steve fumbled with his glass, shifting hands before grasping the man’s with a palm he was not ashamed to say had the slightest tremor running through it.

“No, no we haven’t. I’m Steve, Steve Rogers, you—ah—you bought my painting.” He stammered, inclining his head towards the wall.

Howard’s brows rose and he smiled a bit wider, drawing his fingers along the length of Steve’s hand when he pulled away, eliciting a shiver from the artist. He indicated the picture with a tilt of his glass, looking between it and Steve.

“You painted this magnificent piece? Why, Mister Rogers, that’s quite impressive. It’s a wonderful view of our fair city.”

“Steve, please. You have no idea how much of an honor that is to hear from a collector of your standards, Mister Stark.”

Howard inclined his head, laughing slightly and shifted closer to Steve as people moved behind him, so close their elbows brushed.

“Call me Howard, please, and it’s an honor to be speaking with such a creative talent. Though I must say,” Howard leaned in close, his lips inches from Steve’s ear. “I’ve always thought the best night view one could get was from a lover’s arms.”

Two things occurred to Steve in that instant. One; the amount of champagne on the man’s breath was too strong for the billionaire to still be in his right mind, and two; Howard Stark, genius of his generation, most powerful man on the planet, was _flirting_ with him. Steve blinked in surprise, flushing slightly as the man drew back. Howard opened his mouth, looking as if he were about to backtrack when Steve decided to take the plunge. If nothing else, he could get a night of pleasure without going through the hoops of being at a bar.

“Well,” Steve purred, looking at the man through lowered lashes. “I wouldn’t really know about that.”

Howard’s face shifted into an expression of sly amusement, and, Steve noted with an internal grimace, arrogance. It wasn’t unexpected, but it still grated on his nerves that the man was so sure of himself.

“Oh, come now, Steve. A handsome young man like you must have numerous suitors, yes?”

“Not as of late, to be honest. I’m beginning to think perhaps there’s something wrong with me.”

They shared a small laugh, Howard’s arm slipping around his back, fingers splaying wide above the band of Steve’s belt. He was momentarily annoyed at the uninvited touch, but brushed it off. If Howard had asked, he would have allowed it, why get angry because the man had read between the lines?

“I think there’s something wrong with the boys you’ve been hanging around.”

Here it was, here was the opening Steve had. Howard had left it up to him, letting the sentence dangle between them. Steve could back out now, or take the plunge and deepen their flirting from harmless to charged. He inhaled sharply, taking a fortifying sip of the bubbly liquid in his grasp, and licked his own lips, watching Howard’s eyes track the movement.

“Perhaps. Maybe I should change my targets then? Start going after… **men**.” He deliberately drawled the last word, combining it with a slow look down the older man’s body.

Howard huffed out a breath of laughter, leaning in and actually brushing Steve’s ear with his lips this time as he spoke.

“And if you were to start, what would you look for…in a man?”

“Someone charismatic, powerful. I don’t want a boy in nicer clothes. I want someone who knows what they’re doing, and does it very well. Would you know where I could find someone like that, Mister Stark?” He deliberately used the man’s title, shifting into the powerful body next to him.

Howard groaned low, taking the glass from Steve’s hand and depositing it, and his own, on a passing waiter’s tray before starting to guide Steve from the room.

“Where in the world are we going?” He asked innocently, like he wasn’t acutely aware of every room with a door and dark corner they passed.

Howard neglected to answer as he guided them past partygoers, down a deserted back hallway. He stopped in front of a door and pulled it open, guiding Steve inside. The artist almost laughed when he saw it was a massive coat closet, and really, could the billionaire _be_ more of a cliché? He swallowed down a chuckle at that, turning to tease the man more, when strong hands caught his jaw and pulled him into a kiss that tasted of champagne and the sharp tang of cigars.

Steve moaned into the older man’s mouth, letting himself be turned and pinned against the door, Howard crowding him into the wood. Their hips came together and Steve was inordinately proud that he managed to keep his own still while Howard’s jumped at the contact, rubbing their erections together with a mind-meltingly delicious friction. Howard pulled back for breath, nipping kisses into the skin of Steve’s neck above his collar while the younger man fisted hands in the expensive fabric of his suit.

“Dangerous little boy, aren’t you? Tell me, Steve, am I man enough for you?” Howard growled, and Steve rolled his eyes at the arrogance coloring the man’s tone.

If it had been anyone else, and had Steve been any less hot at the moment, he would have pushed away and left them, and their cocksure attitude, standing there panting. But Howard Stark was slowly casting a spell over him, and the rhythmic ache behind his zipper was clouding his judgment even more. He ran slow hands down the front of the man, before boldly cupping his hands around an impressive erection, grinding his palm down as he spoke.

“Oh, yeah, you’re more than man enough. Want you, Howard.”

“Want you too, Steve. Pull me out, I want to feel your hand around me.” He whispered into Steve’s throat and the artist complied, never gladder for his nimble fingers as he worked open the man’s belt and zipper, fishing inside before wrapping his hand around a thick, hard cock. Howard moaned, his hips jumping forwards as Steve pumped him slowly, gripping loosely.

“Ah, hell, yes. So good, Steve. Let me, wait, here, hang on.” Howard babbled, quickly working Steve’s pants open and freeing his own erection, making the younger man hiss at the tight grip.

He felt Howard grin against his throat victoriously, but couldn’t find it in him to be irritated, not when the man’s hand was stroking over him so masterfully.

“Mmm, you’re big, Steve. Not such a boy after all, are you?” Howard whispered teasingly, and Steve quickened his strokes in response, already feeling tightness coil in his belly. Two could play at that game, he decided, and turned his head so his lips brushed the shell of Howard’s ear.

“Not really, but you are _certainly_ the man I was looking for. You’re so thick, I wonder how you would feel stretching me open. I bet it would feel fantastic, bet I would cum all over myself before you even got all of your big cock into me.” He growled, inwardly pleased when the billionaire groaned, hips moving against Steve’s hold and hand stuttering on Steve’s erection.

Howard cursed under his breath and crowded even closer, their knuckles brushing as they both kept up furious paces on one another’s erections. Steve arched as he felt himself sliding towards the edge, licking his lips and burying his face into the older man’s shoulder. He felt Howard fumbling with his other hand before the cool, gentle touch of a cloth settled over the tips of their cocks.

“Come on, Steve. Let me see what you look like when you cum.” Howard begged, and that was all it took for Steve to tip over, biting into the soft material to mask his scream as he coated the handkerchief.

He felt Howard stiffen at the bite, groaning heatedly before he jerked in Steve’s hand, soaking the cloth further. They both sagged as the tension left suddenly, Steve’s body supporting them against the door. Howard was the first to recover, naturally, drawing back and pulling the cloth away with a smug grin. Steve gritted his teeth at the arrogant expression, more irritated by the man now that the rush of need had been satisfied.

Howard discarded the cloth easily, tucking himself away and running hands over himself to make sure he was put back together. Steve did the same, though he took much less time than the older man. Once they were both more presentable, Howard offered up another grin, and now Steve could clearly see where alcohol was dulling the man’s brain, the glint in his eyes from booze, not sexual attraction. The whole situation suddenly felt dirty to Steve. Had he really just jerked off, and been jerked off by, the most wealthy man in the world in a coat closet? And for what; buying his art?

That was…basically prostitution.

“That was fantastic, kid. How about you and I ditch this silly little gathering and go back to my place? I’ll show you just how much your little mind can be blown.”

Okay, aaaannnd they were done here.

Steve straightened, pulling open the door and leading them both into the hall, pausing to close it behind them. Howard was waiting with an expectant grin, and for just one moment, Steve felt bad about shutting him down so firmly.

“Come on, let’s go. If you’re lucky, maybe I’ll let you play around in the limo.”

Oh, look at that! Bad feeling gone.

Steve pasted on a blindingly cheery smile, taking care to show just a tad too much teeth.

“I’d rather cut off my own hands, Mister Stark. Thank you again for your purchase. Good night.”

And with those words, he spun on his heel and stomped back into the party. He knew Howard would get the insult later, once he had sobered up. An artist’s hands were his life, so he’d effectively told the man he’d die first. And it was true, Steve would end himself before he’d get involved with such an arrogant, self-centered bastard.

In fact, Steve mused, grabbing another glass of champagne and draining half of it in one go, his life would be perfect if he _never_ saw Howard Stark again. 


End file.
